


It's Going to be OK

by kyluxtrashcompactor



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6156460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyluxtrashcompactor/pseuds/kyluxtrashcompactor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr meme drabble:  Kisses because everything hurts right now including being loved by you but you’re also the only thing that makes it feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Going to be OK

The things Hux felt these days were minimal, more sensations bound to the physical world than overt cognizance. His being, his dreams and ambitions, had turned to ash on the bonfire of his catastrophic failures. He was naught now but a vessel for distant awareness of time passing: the way the light slid slanted from one side of the room to the other as the sun crossed the single, barred window. The way he’d grown into the floor somehow, taken root with his knees tucked to his chest. The way his forehead was cold against the solid concrete wall that separated him from Kylo Ren.

Ren must have called to him a thousand times. But he never answered, choosing instead to drown in the murk of lost purpose, adrift on a sea and out of sight of land. Everything ached. His bones, his head, the hollow belly grown thin for he would not eat. What reason was there to stave off the inevitable?

_Hux._

The voice in his head again. It hurt too, like a knife in the base of his skull, twisting and tearing with claws of electricity through his brain. There was another place, deep in the hollow of his chest, that hurt as well, hearing the familiar whisper. It was a place that used to burn with passion, to flutter with weakness, to swell with … love. His heart, perhaps?

There was still an ember there, buried under a mountain of ash, that pulsed at the sound of his name. _That bastard,_ Hux thought _._ Ren could have had a chance. To get out, to be free, when Hux was captured. Sentenced to death. Ren could easily have claimed that Snoke had possessed him, that he had been no more than a puppet, and could have played upon the legacy of his family to earn a pardon. But he had refused, and had asked for nothing more from Leia Organa than to occupy the cell next to the doomed general of the First Order.

And now he plagued Hux with the memory of comfort, of companionship, of souls bared. He sifted through his being and stirred that which remained alive, the vestige of life that Hux struggled so hard to extinguish, so that when the general faced his final moments, he would give them, the millions, no satisfaction.

You could not kill a man who was already dead.

_Hux._

His lips twitched, and Hux found that the muscles of his face hurt too, with the effort of forming even the simulacrum of an expression. A frown, perhaps.

Suddenly, he saw Ren, for his mind was empty and despite the force dampening bindings they’d strapped to Ren’s wrists, it was not ever enough to tear down this bridge.

And he saw Ren so clearly, too, long legs folded to his chest in a mimicry of Hux, leaning against the wall of his own cell with a shoulder digging into the wall just opposite Hux. Forehead touching the general’s through a foot of stone. It hurt, seeing him.

 _It’s going to be ok,_ his voice echoed.

Those words hurt too, and stirred his indignation. _Let me die Ren._ Before they kill me tomorrow.

Instead of answering with words, Ren answered with a vision. In it, the fallen knight pressed his fingers to his lips, marking the soft skin with a kiss, and then touched the wall.

Hux was still for a long moment, not wanting this, but needing it. One last gesture of love.

And so Hux did the same. Scored a kiss upon the tips of his fingers, and held them to the cold stone, eyes slipping shut with sorrow that he would never get closer than this to the thing that had been most real in his life. _Not Snoke, not the vision of galactic order, not even the billions he’d killed. All abstract concepts_. Ren was real.

He stayed that way a long time, even after the vision faded.

It did not occur to him until a long while later, in the aftermath of the storm approaching even then, that there had been no shackles on Ren’s wrists. 

That his voice had been clear, strong, when he said _“It’s going to be ok.”_


End file.
